"At Scira, at Niera," Croft told him, giving the routing of the planes
as well as an answer. "Send in my name a message to Scira--that with
morn a swift galley depart for Niera, bidding Mazhur send a quantity
of the fuel north along the highway to within a day's march of the
northern border of the state. In these things, Rob, lies my reason for
calling you to me. Much must be arranged ere we start." Long before
this night he had planned each step of the journey in his mind, and he
was ready now that the time for the actual work approached.
"Aye." A look of steely purpose crept into Robur's eyes. "As ever,
Jason, my friend, you are ready. The message shall be sent without
delay." He rose.
"We will take with us the man who sends it, also," said Croft. "Let it
be understood. Once we are over Berla it will be needful that there be
one who shall understand the signals of the flash-lights I have made,
since according to my plans I shall land a plane in the square before
Helmor's palace."
Robur's eyes widened swiftly. "_Thou_ wilt land a plane before his
palace!" he exclaimed.
"Aye," Croft answered, smiling slightly. "Who else? Think you I shall
trust the final mission to another? Wherefore I shall require a man on
one of the blimps, to read any such message as I may give."
The glances of the two men continued to hold for a breathless moment,
and then Robur said with feeling, "By Zitu--thou art a brave man,
Jason, yet I sense not your plan in this. They will but fall upon
thee--"
"Nay." Croft shook his head. "Nay, Rob--and you think so, you sense
not my plan indeed. Ere I make a landing before the palace of Helmor,
a part--a small part of Berla--but one adjoining the space about the
palace, shall be ablaze. In the light of that conflagration shall Jason
of Tamarizia descend--and call upon Helmor for the surrender of the
ones he holds to ransom, under penalty of seeing the remainder of Berla
destroyed. Think you he will long falter, or seek to injure my person?
Nay, he will make the better choice."
For it was so he had planned it in the instant he gazed on the vast
expanse of pavement fronting the palace, this same night when he had
hung above it in spirit only. Then he had pictured it back by a roaring
wall of unquenchable fire, in the leaping radiance of which the flare
of the fire urns faded, by the light of which Helmor of Zollaria might
cast his eyes up and behold the menace floating above him and all
Berla, against the sky.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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